


many times

by 2manyboys



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Facials, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2manyboys/pseuds/2manyboys
Summary: “You never could just take a photograph, could you?” Nicky says, smiling so soft Joe has to put pencil to paper again to see if he can capture it.“Cameras can’t see you like I do.” Joe insists.“And how do you see me today, my heart? Am I to be your Saint Sebastian?”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 125
Kudos: 1526





	many times

Joe wakes up with his back to the wall and his front pressed up against Nicky. He doesn’t open his eyes, just shifts slightly to press his lips to the back of Nicky’s neck, presses his hand over Nicky’s heart. Feeling his pulse, his steady breathing, the sleepy warmth of him is Joe’s one addiction. If Nicky’s alive, so is he. Waking up like this always makes him feel lucky rather than cursed. So lucky.

He buries his face between Nicky’s shoulder blades and groans softly, rolling his hips against Nicky’s ass and pressing forward with more intent, stretching without moving an inch away from him. Nicky’s hand wraps around Joe’s wrist and squeezes once, hard. Joe freezes.

“We’re not alone, my heart.”

Unfortunately, Nicky’s sleep rough voice really does it for him. Joe groans into Nicky’s back again, all frustration. He still hasn’t opened his eyes but he can hear Andy laughing in the adjoining room. Nicky reaches back to scratch at his hairline and the back of his neck, tugging gently on his curls until Joe releases him from the bed. 

When Nicky gets up Joe flops onto his stomach, turning his head to watch Nicky take his gun out from under the pillow and shove it into the back of his jeans. He stretches up towards the ceiling then bends over to touch his toes. Joe growls at him. Now Andy and Nile are both laughing. Joe can just barely see them at the tiny hotel table, computers and newspapers between them.

“Wow, okay, I had been wondering…” Nile says, breaking off and hiding her face in a mug of coffee.

“Wondering what?” Nicky asks, walking away from Joe just in time to avoid the hand grabbing for his waistband. Andy’s smiling and shaking her head, used to their antics. It’s so good to see her happy. Joe steals Nicky’s pillow and buries his own smile in it. 

“I wasn't sure how to ask if you all still had a sex drive.” Nile says, straightforward as always. She looks a little miffed when all three of them pause for a moment and then start laughing. 

“Sorry.” Nicky says eventually, trying to sort out his hair in the tiny hotel suite bathroom. Joe can see a sliver of his reflection when he turns his head and stares shamelessly. “We’re only laughing at ourselves.”

“It comes and goes for me.” Andy agrees, shrugging. “Those two are due for a honeymoon period soon.”

“Hold on,” Joe says, levering himself up onto one arm to twist around towards Nile, “Did you really think you might never want sex again?”

Nile shrugs, downing more coffee. “Didn’t seem like a pressing question before, but yeah. You guys are all wrapped up in each other but I hadn’t seen you even kiss.” 

Joe and Nicky exchange a look. Nicky reaches for his toothbrush. “We kissed in the van.” Joe says, a little defensive. Some part of him objects strongly to the idea that he and Nicky might not obviously belong to each other in every possible way. It matters that Nile doesn’t know.

“The van? The armored van they stuffed you into after killing you?” Nile asks, “You kissed in front of half a dozen armed guards?”

“You had to be there.” Joe says, finally rolling out of bed. Andy rolls her eyes. Both women watch him walk directly into the bathroom with Nicky, squeezing past him, pulling him out of the way of the door with both hands on his hips, closing it behind them with a foot. 

“After a thousand years, they just don’t have boundaries?” Nile asks. 

“I don’t think they’ve spent a night apart in all that time.” Andy says. 

“So then, what’s different during a honeymoon period?” Nile presses. She’s not sure why this matters, but this group, her new family and new reality, still surprises her daily. Asking questions helps. 

“It might not seem like it but they can get more… more focused on each other.” Andy says, spreading her hands out on the table and staring down at it with a little frown that Nile is already coming to associate with Booker. When Andy says his name she isn’t surprised. “Booker followed them once, thought they were taking jobs without us or something. Instead he watched them hold hands in museums, dance in the street, kiss over candlelit dinners… he came back shaken. Jealous, the way men can get knowing they’ll never have something.” She says it like she’s been that something.

The bathroom door opens and Nicky stumbles out like he’s been pushed. His hair is back to disarray and Joe smiles smugly around his toothbrush. 

“If the plan is to lay low anyway boss,” Nicky says, sitting on the bed to put his socks and shoes on, “We might take the boat out for a while.”

“The boat?” Nile asks. 

“Houseboat.” Andy answers. 

“Love shack.” Joe says at the same time, through toothpaste.

Nicky grins at his shoelaces.

“Sounds good, as long as we plan a rendezvous and we know where to come looking for you if you don’t show.” 

“Of course boss.” Nicky says, then pauses and seems to remember something. He looks up and holds loaded eye contact with Nile, the kind of look that makes him seem properly old and a little intimidating. “You’ll need a way to contact us in an emergency too. Did the phones from Copley get here yet?”

“I’ll check with the front desk.” Andy says, and all three of them hesitate, like Nicky’s comment reminded them of her vulnerability and they can’t stand to let her out alone. It chafes a little, to have her usual protectiveness reflected back on her threefold, but Andy takes a deep breath and picks up the hotel landline and the tension dissipates.

She’s softly speaking in the background while Nile refocuses her curiosity on Joe and Nicky. Joe spits in the sink, rinses his mouth, and crosses the room again. Catching Nile watching he grins a little too sharp, a challenge accepted. Nicky’s posture loosens as Joe approaches him on the bed, his legs spread and he leans back onto his hands, neck arching up. Joe reaches for him and bends at the waist like they’ve choreographed it. They come together for a kiss so achingly familiar and warm that Nile finds herself looking away smiling. They remind her of her grandparents, the ones on her dad's side who were married fifty something years and were always the last couple on the dance floor at weddings. 

She looks back and Joe is pressing Nicky into the bed, holding his arms over his head and kissing him deep and dirty. So, maybe not quite her grandparents. She clears her throat and they break apart, turning toward her in unison, grins splitting their faces, joyful at getting caught in love. She rolls her eyes, not realizing Andy is doing the same thing behind her, hanging up the phone. Joe rolls off Nicky and smiles at the ceiling, feeling so so lucky. 

Nicky flicks him in the ear and says, “Feel better now, big man?” in Italian. 

“Yeah,” Joe says. “Thanks.” Then, to Nile, “Uh, sorry. Got a little carried away.”

Nicky says something very rude into his shoulder and laughs softly. Joe shoves at him, playful. Andy throws up her hands and says, “Can we seriously not talk about sex without you two going at it?”

“That wasn’t going at it, boss.” Nicky says, all innocence. Something about his tone makes Nile grin, then Joe says, “Yeah boss, it’s like your signals, you’ll know when that happens.” They’re good at setting each other up in and out of fights.

“It better not happen.” Andy says, but she’s grinning too. “There’s a package for us at the front desk.”

There’s a lull in the conversation that Nile is beginning to recognize as a silence that Booker used to fill, a momentum he provided. Sometimes she jumps in, sometimes she lets the others stew in it. If they’d only let him apologize, this shunning that’s clearly painful to them all - including Joe, no matter what he says - wouldn’t be happening. But she’s starting to love them too much to let them really wallow.

“So about this boat…”

They don’t let Nile come with them to the marina. Nicky wants to answer all her questions, make this transition into their way of life as smooth and painless as possible for her, but he also wants Joe to fuck him, yesterday. This is the only thing he still gets impatient for, and Joe knows it. Riling him up like that in the hotel wasn’t an accident. 

Joe definitely thinks it’s funny that Nicky is watching him prepare the boat to leave like he’s strategizing a takedown. He turns at one point, a bottle of champagne in each hand, and says, “We’re not doing this at the docks again, you might as well stop staring at my ass and start helping load supplies.”

“Champagne and lube are ‘supplies’ now?” Nicky asks, continuing to check their gas is full and secured. 

“There’s some food too, but I know you hate cooking on the hot plate.”

“Mm, what else do you know about me, Joe?” Nicky says, mindlessly flirting, turning from where he’s crouched down and considering how steady Joe looks on his legs. 

“I know if you tackle me on this deck right now you’re gonna regret it.” 

“I’m not convinced.” 

“You’ll break these bottles, Nicolò.” 

Nicky squints at him, frowns, and nods. He stands up and rubs a hand through his hair, already sweaty in the sun. “After all that, in the labs, I want it to just be us.”

“Yeah.” Joe says, setting down the supplies and gathering him close. Nicky leans his cheek against Joe’s shoulder, hugging tight. “Just us. We’re still here together.”

“Yes.” Nicky sighs loudly, rubbing his nose against Joe’s neck and murmuring. “But still not close enough together.”

“Soon. Sooner if you help me.”

“Yes, alright. Come on.”

When Joe comes up from below he’s got a sketch pad under his arm and two flutes of champagne in hand. He stops dead when he spots Nicky towards the bow. They’re out on the ocean far enough that there’s not much of anything in sight, and they’ll see another boat approach long before they’re visible, but there’s still something stupidly thrilling about Nicky being naked right now. He’s got his fingers interlocked, hands behind his head, eyes closed in the face of the midday sun. His legs are dangling off the side, feet and calves submerged in the ocean. He’s half hard and practically glowing.

Joe puts the champagne down quietly, already flipping his sketchbook open, pulling the pencil free of the spiral binding. He knows Nicky heard that, or can simply sense his presence, because he’s smiling, flexing a little. Joe has a rough sketch finished quickly, some details in the margins; Nicky’s eyelashes on his cheek, the freckles along his ribs, his cock against his thigh.

When Joe looks up he finds Nicky looking back at him and realizes he must be a sight too, just as naked, consumed by capturing the image before him. 

“Nicolò.” He breathes, a prayer, an exaltation, a confession. 

“You never could just take a photograph, could you?” Nicky says, smiling so soft Joe has to put pencil to paper again to see if he can capture it.

“Cameras can’t see you like I do.” Joe insists.

“And how do you see me today, my heart? Am I to be your Saint Sebastian?”

Joe flinches slightly at the reminder, however slight and unintentional, of Booker. “No, not today. Perhaps an August Blue.” 

“I cannot look that young, though the boat suits.”

“You do, in the sunlight. You’re… I cannot say all that you are to me.”

They gaze at one another for a long moment, Joe quietly flips his sketchbook closed. 

“Can I have that drink now, Joe?”

“You can have whatever you want, Nicky.” 

Nicky ends up drinking both glasses of champagne, watching Joe suck his cock. He keeps saying “I want-“ and Joe knows before he can finish but aches to hear him say it. 

“I want you wet.” So Joe slips into the water, just off the side of the boat, and crowds up close to run his hands up and down Nicky’s calves. Watches him with dark eyes.

“I want you to-“ Joe doesn't wait, he grips Nicky’s ankles and pulls him closer, dragging his ass a little roughly across the deck until he’s sitting on the edge. Until he’s close enough to ask for more.

“I want your mouth.” Nicky says, breathless, low. Joe gives it to him, slow at first, playing with the sensation of his tongue on the head. Nicky lets him, breathing harshly and taking sips of the champagne. The muscles in his thighs jump when Joe finally takes him deep, sucking hard on his way back. 

A warm wet hand tugs at him while Nicky’s distracted by how red Joe’s mouth is already. He bites his lips while he’s sketching. When that mouth descends on him again, Nicky yells something, he’s not even sure in what language. Joe comes back up chuckling, licking his lips. “Salty.” He says, demonstrating by jacking Nicky again with his hand, wet from the ocean. 

Nicky’s moved on to the second glass, his other hand gripping Joe’s hair too hard, not guiding him just holding on while Joe wrings him out with his throat. He’s perfect. He knows exactly how to keep Nicky on the edge, rubbing him against the inside of his cheek, sucking hard. Nicky almost crunches the glass in his hand when Joe starts lazily deep throating him, showing off. It’s almost easy to forget he’s swimming too, treading water, except every time Nicky remembers he feels hot at the show of strength, of Joe’s promise.

“I want-“ he chokes out, setting down the second empty glass before one of them gets hurt. 

“Anything, Nicky, come on.” Joe goads him, but he already knows. Nicky can see it in the way he smiles, the obvious hint of rubbing his rough cheek against Nicky’s dick until he gasps. 

“I want to come on your face, your beard, your mouth.” Nicky manages to say, feeling right on the edge of it, so close. 

“Do it.” Joe says, begs. “I’ve always thought I’d look good with a little white. Give it to me Nicky.” He lapses into Italian after that, crude, tender words. His hand, the one not holding him out of the water enough for the right angle, speeds up on Nicky’s dick, twisting at the head, rubbing rough calluses against him just right. Joe ducks forward and kisses just above his hand, flicks his tongue hard against the slit, and Nicky comes shouting. 

Joe works him through it, laughing low and delighted at how much he manages to get dripping into his beard. He wants Nicky to see, but Nicky has released his hair and fallen back onto the boat deck, breathing hard and groaning like he’s been punched. Joe’s legs are getting tired, his hands wrinkly, but he still levers himself out of the water slowly, dripping all over Nicky, relishing his renewed attention.

Nicky, when he sees the state of Joe’s face, what he’s done to it, tilts his head back in breathless appreciation, thanking God or whoever is listening. Joe’s laughing but he also wants to come as soon as possible and he’s always preferred Nicky’s hands to his own, even when they were killing each other.

“Get up here, come on, get-“

“Fuck, fuck, I need to- let me-“

“I want it, give it to me.”

Pretty soon it’s him falling back onto the deck, closing his eyes in the face of the sunlight, breathing in the way it feels to be consumed by Nicky and only Nicky. A warm hand traces his collarbone and Joe hums appreciatively. It dips lower, into the mess on his stomach and abs, then back up, tracing down his nose, rubbing at his cheek. He feels glorious, sweaty and sticking. 

“You’re filthy.” Nicky says, sweet, teasing.

“Me?” Joe laughs, turning to face him. Nicky’s closer than he thought, their noses brush. A wicked look comes over his face, and Nicky’s half heartedly leaning away saying, “Oh, no no no!” but Joe is already rubbing their cheeks together, kissing all over Nicky’s face with scattered endearments in whatever language they sound best. He’s still laughing when Joe pulls back to check his handiwork. His face is pink with beard burn and definitely filthy with his own cum. 

Joe acknowledges that he deserves it when Nicky wrestles him back into the ocean, but dragging the man in with him was only meant to help clean them both off, he swears. 

They can’t sleep. It happens sometimes, even somewhere safe. Even when they’re spooned together like this, the rightness of it spreading warmth through them both, sleep sometimes doesn’t come. 

He’s thinking about how many people died for nothing, for Booker’s stupid fucking betrayal, about how many people Nile killed for them. He’s thinking about the moment when that man put a gun in Nicky’s mouth. The fear was so sharp it was like he could taste it in his mouth too. It’s always like that. He tries not to let Nicky see, not every time. From the way Nicky reaches for him, wordless, so they can anchor each other, Joe thinks maybe he can’t hide it after all. 

He remembers all of a sudden the way Nicky said they still weren’t close enough, holding each other. He remembers Nicky’s plan to tackle him in full view of the marina. He remembers promising to give him anything he wants. 

“You’re keeping me up with how hard you’re thinking.” Nicky complains, turning his head back until he can see Joe out of the corner of his eyes.

“I’m thinking about fucking you.” Joe says, biting Nicky’s shoulder to keep from smiling too big at the way Nicky goes tense and relaxes in quick succession, like he’s been shocked. Like he forgot he asked for it.

“Are you just going to think about it, or are you going to get the lube?” Nicky says, cheeky. He got sunburned up on the deck and in the water earlier, went pink all over in this way that Joe loves. By now the color and damage is gone but Joe could swear he’s still radiating extra heat. He rubs against Nicky’s ass with nothing between them, like he wanted to do the other day in the hotel when he forgot about their audience, and tweaks his nipples, pretending to think about it. 

Nicky gets impatient again, twisting and pinning Joe to the bed in a way that brushes them up together in a number of excellent ways. Joe groans, loud and overdramatic, relaxing in Nicky’s hold. He loves these reminders that Nicky needs him just as badly. 

“Where did you stash it?” Nicky asks.

“Under the bed.” Joe says. It’s a bad joke, and an old one, but Nicky still kisses him for remembering before he climbs down to fish it out. 

Joe tries to lounge a little more regally and says, looking down at him, “Now we’re David and Saul.”

“The Rembrandt?” Nicky asks, distracted, tossing Joe’s jeans across the room and finally coming up with his prize. 

“The Kronberg.” Joe corrects, leaning on his elbow to more fully adopt the correct pose. Nicky laughs but doesn’t play along enough to cross his legs. He climbs back onto the bed and Joe instead.

“I love you.” Nicky says, pressing the lube into his hands. Joe has to kiss him, again, a third time. 

“You are my life. The art is for you, it is you, it’s all for you.” Joe says, insistent, slicking his fingers. They rush sometimes, being what they are there’s no chance of lasting damage, but he can’t bear to hurt Nicky.

Nicky rushes him though, wants it badly tonight, pressing back against his hand insistently, pressing their foreheads together. “You think it doesn’t hurt me just as badly, to see you die? You think anything matters to me as much as seeing you wake up again?” Joe squeezes his eyes closed and tries not to cry. Nicky always cuts right through him. “You think love isn’t a big enough word for this but it’s the only word. I love you. I need you, closer.”

Joe nods against Nicky’s head, breathes him in, works him open. “Anything you want. I want to give it all to you.” 

Nicky rolls then again, grabs behind his head blindly for the pillows so he can prop up his hips. Their eye contact is heavy, the look Nicky is giving him has gotten him killed before and will again, it’s pure heat. Joe shuffles forward on his knees and gets Nicky’s legs around him, leans forward onto both hands to kiss him and kiss him until Nicky grabs a fist full of hair at the back of his head and says, “I want you to fuck me.”

Joe presses in, leans back, gets a grip on Nicky’s legs and fucks him. Even this feels like too far away, and they shift, coming together again with Joe leaning forward, pressing his face into the crook of Nicky’s neck, Nicky holding his own legs up and open, groaning loud into Joe’s ear. 

It’s drawn out, slow then fast then slow again, every time Nicky looks at him Joe feels it building until their eyes lock and hold, Joe’s hand gliding up and down Nicky’s cock fast and tight, urging him to go first. Nicky does, jerking, craning his neck back and coming into Joe’s fist, tightening around him, pressing his heels hard into the small of Joe’s back and dragging his nails across Joe’s shoulder blades until he’s coming too, balls deep and loud. 

They relax slowly, Nicky’s legs falling down last. Joe can’t convince himself to withdraw completely yet.

“Feel better, big man?” He asks, winking, parroting Nicky’s words from the other day. 

Collapsed as he is, spread across the lumpy bed, bunched up sheets and pillows still under his hips, Nicky doesn’t think he has the coordination to smack him. He just grins, silly and sated, “Yeah. Thanks.”

Joe snorts, going down onto his elbows for a long, sloppy kiss. It’s too much sensation too soon, but it’s Joe’s words that make Nicky shiver all over and clutch desperately at him for more. “Anything you want.”

“So, have a good honeymoon?” Nile asks, a week later, stepping back from the exuberant hug Joe gave her as soon as he stepped through the doorway of the safe house. 

“Oh yeah, just wait ‘til you see my sketches.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if I made you google all those paintings.


End file.
